The Great Within

Georgian On My Mind Part II: A George III Cream Jug and A George IV Cream Jug

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 19:42:00 +0000

King George III by Sir William Beechy, 1799-1800, oil on canvas, National Portrait Gallery, London. George III was on the throne from 1760-1820. When this portrait was painted, my cream jug was being forged in London.

The Georgian Era spanned the reign of 5 Hanoverian monarchs of Great Britain from 1715-1837. In 1837, the last Hanoverian monarch, Queen Victoria, ascended the throne which she occupied until 1901 giving her name to the Victorian Era which spanned most of the 19th century. The 2 cream jugs discussed in this post are just small examples of Georgian cultural production. They do, however, illustrate the transition from the neoclassicism of the late 18th and early 19th century to the Rococo Revival style of the 19th century which began in the reign of George IV and continued into the Victorian period and was part of the historicism that permeated most of that era.

George III sterling cream jug London 1799 with unreadable maker’s mark

The George III cream jug in my collection was made in London in 1799. The maker’s mark is unfortunately unreadable. The jug has a traditional, yet modified neoclassical helmet shape with the added detail of a lobed body and a gilt interior.

Below the spout and above the lobed section of the creamer there is an area of engraved decoration. The motif is a guilloche- a repetitive architectural pattern used in classical Greek and Roman architecture as well as neo-classical architecture. It consists of two ribbons winding around a series of regular central points. These central points are sometimes blank, but may also contain a figure. On the George III cream jug the central points contain a flower.

At the base of the creamer there is a band of stylized, engraved acanthus leaf decoration. The acanthus leaf is another common motif in neoclassical design.

George IV as Prince Regent by Thomas Lawrence, 1816, oil on canvas, Vatican Museum. George IV was regent for his father George III during his madness from 1811-1820. He was King from 1820-1830. Where does he get that fabulous hair?!?!?

George IV by Thomas Lawrence, 1822, oil on canvas, Devonshire Collection. Where does he get that fabulous hair?!?!?

A George IV sterling cream jug made in London in 1824 by George Knight

In contrast to the neoclassical style of the 1799 cream jug, the George IV creamer made in 1824 in London by George Knight represents the first steps in a new direction of design. Beginning in the 1820’s an interest in the Rococo style of the 18th century gathered momentum and the Rococo Revival was born.

Made in 1824 this George IV cream jug demonstrates the inception of the Rococo Revival style. While the jug still vaguely maintains the neoclassical helmet shape, it has become fatter, more plump in its outline and volume suggesting the richness and sumptuousness of the Rococo. Also, it is elegantly raised on little ball feet which also give it an abundance and playfulness that is in contrast to the more sober design of the 1799 cream jug.

Around the body of the creamer is an exuberant engraving of flowers, leaves and fruit. Yet along side this Rococo Revival display is a classical palmette or anthemion which indicates how this creamer is a transitional piece. It still has neoclassical elements of design alongside the emerging interest in 18th century French style.

Also, another interesting feature of this creamer is that on the front below the spout in addition to an engraved G there is a beautifully rendered crest or coat of arms. It consists of a border with a Greek key design and a buckle. Inside this border are 3 whiskey barrels and a chevron. Below the badge the year “1824” is inscribed.

I have not yet been able to identify this coat of arms, but will do further research soon. Perhaps there was a family whose surname began with the letter G. They lived in London in the early 19th century and used this cream jug when serving tea to their guests. Being able to identify the family to whom this piece of sterling belonged would be a wonderful thing. It would fulfill all of my desires and fantasies about owning antiques. For me, they bear the traces of their past use and are imbued with life of those who owned them. For me, this George IV cream jug as well as the George III cream jug are alive with the past.

Georgian On My Mind: A George III Silver Cream Jug

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 19 Jan 2013 15:07:00 +0000

While I love to collect pieces of pottery and silver from The Aesthetic Movement, lately I have been attracted to the more classical forms of the late Georgian period. Recently, I acquired a very sweet small cream jug, 3.5” in height, which is a lovely example of the period. The jug was made by Alice and George Burrows and assayed in London in 1805.

The hallmarks on the jug. The last mark on the right is the head of George III.

King George III in Coronation Robes by Allan Ramsay, 1761-1762, oil on canvas, 58”x42”, National Portrait Gallery, London.

The shape of my jug is a common form of the period. To me, it is reminiscent of the popular helmet shape also typically Georgian, but it does not have the pedestal and is less tapered at the bottom being fatter and more squat.

The creamer is engraved with a lovely, classical Greek key motif which travels around the entire piece. Its handle is reeded and the interior of the piece still retains its original gilding.

The jug also has a superb period monogram which reads JEN and is surrounded by a stylized ribbon motif which creates a cartouche in which the initials appear.

I look forward to using this creamer at tea one day. When I look at it, I can just imagine when it was new, gleaming in the afternoon light as a Georgian lady named J poured cream into the cup of her guest.

The Raw (and the Cooked)

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 00:17:00 +0000

Andres Serrano, Untitled VII (Ejaculate in Trajectory), dye bleached print, 1989

Lately, on Tumblr I have been following a fair number of blogs dedicated to gay pornography. These blogs seem to suit my current mood and desire, even though my Tumblr, Polar Bear Desire, is decidedly non-pornographic, but very queer. It makes for a strange combination and has raised some significant questions in my head, most notably the display of bareback porn and bloggers who are barebackers themselves.

Two Tumblr blogs come to mind in this regard: PussyboiCumdump and Confessions of a Manic Ivy League Jock. (Warning: NSFW) These two blogs not only display naked men alone and together engaged in bareback sex, but also contain stories of their authors’ raw sexual exploits. Recently, I asked each of them how they negotiate their HIV risk? Neither replied and perhaps they each think I am a sexual hypocrite who follows their blog, but at the same time questions their sexual practices. And maybe I am.

I don’t know how I really feel about consuming bareback porn. In other words, my head says one thing and my cock says another. Could I just view bareback porn and read stories of unprotected sex as an outlet for my own personal fantasy or do my actions make me complicit in promoting and condoning unsafe sexual practices? Do I have some responsibility for my fantasy even while I in my own sexual life make practicing safe sex a priority and a necessity?

Both PussyboiCumdump and IvyJockBoy are young and in college, but that still doesn’t help me understand how they can take loads without being concerned about the risk even though young men who have sex with men are the only group for which the incidence of HIV seems to be increasing. And yes there are drugs today which can treat HIV, but the medication itself could cause other health problems as one ages and at times it is not even effective.

In the end, I think, because these two bloggers are in a sense “real people” to me and not an anonymous performer in a bareback porn, their unsafe sexual practices affect me more. In a strange way, I want to care about them. I want to save them. And after my cock metaphorically fantasizes about them or the images on their blogs, my head ultimately just feels sad and helpless.

Postscript

PussyboiCumdump responded to another follower about negotiating his HIV risk. The question: “With the anon loads how do you protect yourself? Or is it just a risk?”

PussyboiCumdump replied, “It’s just a risk if you’re taking raw loads in your holes. Being clean here has been a huge amount of luck honestly, but it also is about being smart. I am a slut, but I don’t frequent sex clubs, bathhouses, glory holes, arcades, theaters, etc. - those places are harder to know what you’re getting yourself into. I ALWAYS ask, I look for any physical signs like shit leaking out of a guy’s dick or weird lesions or whatever, and I more times than not am getting with guys whom don’t sleep around as much as I do. That makes my odds a bit better. And I keep myself very clean as well and get tested regularly. Not much more we can do.”

I don’t know how to really comment on his reply.

Postscript Part 2

IvyJockboy whose Tumblr blog Confessions of A Manic Ivy League Jock replied recently to my question about how he manages his HIV risk. He writes: “one way is to sleep with positive guys that are on meds and undetectable. it’s counter intuitive, but waaay safer than bb with a guy sehfidenifying as “neg”. Any neg person that doesn’t use condoms consistently is a gamble. people forget that it just takes one time with one guy. The MOST contagious guys are the newly converted. they are the ones that spread it. it’s more comfortable to live in a false reality of still being neg after taking 6 anon loads at the bathhouse than to get tested and deal.

If you’re a top Kelly, you’re in luck. hiv is EXTREMELY hard for tops to contract during anal homosexual sex. it really takes a poz untreated blood bottom… or if you’re getting sloppy seconds and fucking with another guys cum. I know several Top man whores in their late forties and fifties that have never worn a rubber. it’s better to bottom for a total top that’s drug free.

lastly you can go on Prep. it’s an hiv preventative drug Truvada. it’s used for high risk populations. At the end of the day one has to weigh the benefits and risks. I can have amazingly hot porn quality sex anywhere. I love feeling a guy’s body seize and jerk as he shoots inside me. (less risk if you have him pull out). I’m not all that worried about hiv. The stigma and misunderstanding and misinformation is the hardest part, not the health aspect. if the cost is taking 1 or 3 pills once a day that keep me healthy, stop me from spreading, and gives me an amazing sex life. it isn’t so bad. it’s not 1984 or 1994. we need to stop the judgement and get guys tested and on meds. i’m on ambien sorry for the lack of form”

Again I am a bit speechless. His reply is an interesting mix of knowledge and bravado with a lecturing tone as if I don’t know anything about HIV. One fact he doesn’t seem to know is that HIV meds only are really effective for 28% of those infected. (This statement is now I realize in error. See below.) Now I am really angry and sad.

This statistic seemed odd to me, but I did not dig further. Thankfully, I thoughtful reader named Perry clarified the 28% statistic. He replied, “This percentage of ART suppression in HIV-infected people is so low primarily because most HIV-infected persons are not diagnosed, not accessing care, or not taking medications. The reason is not because medications don't work.” Thank you Perry for helping make sense of a vague number.

Here are some other Great Within posts on HIV, AIDS, and pornography:

Death/Grief/Absence/Presence: Felix and Felix

31 Seconds of Anger, Terror, Shock and Ambivalence: It's Never Just HIV

AIDS, Masculinity and Representation: A Conversation with Jack Mackenroth

Postscript: AIDS, Masculinity and the Representation of the (Gay) Body

The Absent Body: Felix Gonzalez-Torres, AIDS, Homosexuality and Representation

All Male "Live" Nude Revue

Notes on Nostalgia: Visiting the American Museum of Natural History

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 11 Aug 2012 20:34:00 +0000

This past week I took my goddaughter and her older brother and sister to the American Museum of Natural History. Our first stop at the museum was the Hall of North American Mammals which first opened in 1942. I fondly remember seeing these dioramas as a child which is when I last visited the museum.

Yet, I additionally have always found these dioramas populated with stuffed animals with their detailed trompe-l’oeil backgrounds to be a bit eerie and spooky . This feeling is in part structured by the presentation of the exhibits. The exhibition hall is darkened and the dioramas are for the most part brightly lit and they emerge from the darkness like a dream revealing their occupants who stand motionless and silent.

Unlike seeing animals in zoo, the animals in the museum exhibits do not move or utter a sound. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to view all these mammals without the perpetual noise of the museum crowds to really experience their eternal silence? Despite the visitor noise, standing there in the dark looking at the illuminated animals, I have a sense of nostalgia, loss and death.

Nostalgia for a long ago ended childhood when I first saw these frozen animals. Nostalgia for how I used to make dioramas in school. (Do kids make dioramas anymore?) A feeling of loss (or displacement?) for that queer little boy who survived until adulthood. And for all the people whom I lost along the way. The Hall of North American Mammals is a sort of tomb.

Me in 1974

I also feel the dioramas are decidedly a 19th century practice even though the Hall of North American Mammals was opened in 1942. The exhibit speaks to the 19th century masculine need to collect, to classify, to divide, to control, to hunt, to exhibit. As I stand in the exhibition hall, I feel as if Teddy Roosevelt is standing behind me with his big gun as he gets ready to go hunting to find specimens for the museum.

Here are some of my favorites:

Game on the Table: Silverplate Pheasants Circa 1900

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Wed, 25 Jul 2012 02:38:00 +0000

Here is a pair of silverplate table pheasants, unmarked, probably circa 1900, English or Continental, that sometimes adorn my table when I entertain. Lately, I have been wondering about the origins of my metallic feathered friends. Maybe they refer to the Medieval table in the Great Hall with its abundant feast of game birds presented in elaborate displays. And perhaps they simply suggest the hunting of game itself, and thereby they would appropriately occupy the table of an English country house where shooting game was a traditional pastime.

A cursory look on the internet for silver pheasants in both sterling and plate (and also in .800 grade silver) showed that most of these birds were late Victorian to 1930’s in date and were usually of British or German manufacture with some Italian birds thrown in the mix. This late appearance of such shiny birds suggests that while they refer to hunting and the past, to the English country house, they are also maybe part of the end of this world that began with the Great War. Silver table pheasants are then perhaps a metal symbol of past glories and traditions both for those who actually came from that dying world, but also for an aspiring middle class that could buy a cheaper plate bird and have their table look as splendid as the lord of the manor. Pheasants as fantasy for all.

When I look at my silver table pheasants I am pleasantly reminded of Dutch and Flemish still-life painting of the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.

Jan Weenix The White Peacock, 1692, oil on canvas, 75.2”x65.4”, The Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna.

These lavish, lush and tactile displays of dead game in paint sometimes with accompanying fruit and flowers are full of rich, sumptuous texture and color. They are gruesome, yet deliciously appetizing. Dead animals become something gorgeous to look at (rather than to be avoided) in carefully arranged compositions which could inspire a magnificent tablescape for a dinner party. Yet, dead animals on your table while beautiful in pigment is unappealing in actuality.

And indeed while these paintings were meant as displays of wealth and of the skill of the artist to be visually admired, they were simultaneously vanitas- reminding the spectator that the material world is fleeting and everything and everyone dies in it. Animals are killed, flowers wilt, fruit rots and man turns to dust.

Attributed to Jan Fyt, Still-life with Fruit, Dead Game and a Parrot, late 1640’s, oil on canvas, 33.3”x44.6”, The National Gallery London.

One might suggest an animal stuffed by taxidermy as a substitute for your tablescape to get that Dutch/Flemish look. However, this solution may not be ideal either. Strangely a October 2011 post on Kovel’s Komments, an online antique newsletter, warns, “A popular magazine is featuring taxidermed birds in the center of a table near dishes that would hold food. It makes a nice photo, but it’s a bad idea. Stuffed animals attract many types of insects, especially head lice (we learned the hard way), and feathers and furs are difficult to clean.” Oh dear!

I guess stuffed dead birds are out too for an arresting tablescape. Luckily, I have my silver table pheasants to step into the breach and provide a beautiful table for my guests and remind them of hunting and shooting, of English country houses, of times long gone and hopefully since this would endlessly please me, they would see in my metal birds a hint of Dutch and Flemish still-life painting. Here are some further examples of this genre to whet your appetite:

Jan Fyt, Partridge and Small Game Birds, 1650’s, oil on canvas, 18.25”x14.25”, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Jan Fyt, Dead Birds in a Landscape, 1640’s, oil on canvas, 16.4”x22.4”, The National Gallery, London.

Jan Weenix, Gamepiece with Dead Heron, 1695, oil on canvas, 52.75”x43.75”, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Jan Weenix, Deerhound with Dead Game, 1708, oil on canvas, 68.3”x61.8”, The National Gallery, London.

Jan Weenix, Landscape with Huntsman and Dead Game, 1697, oil on canvas, 135.4”x127.2”, National Gallery of Scotland.

Jan Weenix, Still-life with Jack Rabbit, 1697, oil on canvas, 45”x37.8”, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Jan Weenix, Still-life with Birds and Rabbit, 1714, oil on canvas, 67.7”x63”, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Frans Snijders, Still-life with Game, Flowers and Fruit, 1600-1657, oil on canvas, 47.4”x69.4”, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Frans Snijders, Still-life with Game, Flowers and Fruit, 1600-1657, oil on wood, 22.4”x34.6”, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Wybrand Hendriks, Fruit, Flowers and Dead Birds, c.1780, oil on canvas, 26.7”x21.5”, The National Gallery, London.

When One Other Collects (An)other

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sun, 15 Jul 2012 11:37:00 +0000

In my collection of 19th century English transferware pottery which ranges in date from the 1840’s to the 1890’s there are many which depict Chinese or Japanese people. Often Chinese and Japanese motifs were confused and conflated in the decorative arts of the West, so one cannot definitively say who these objects are actually representing. Yet, whoever is being represented, what does it mean when I, an Other, (albeit fairly privileged as a white Western male) collects representations of Asian people from a moment in history where white hegemony over the world reigned supreme.

It is a troubling question that goes beyond my love for the aesthetics of these objects and their aura of history, of use, of the people who bought them originally and handled them in their daily lives. What was their relationship to these objects in a time of English empire and imperialism? How did they understand these objects and the depiction of the Other in relation to their own subjecthood? How do I understand my desire for these objects in relation to my own queer subjecthood? Am I collecting as Europe and especially Great Britain collected peoples and territories around the world? It is an important question to keep in mind for me as these objects adorn my domestic space.

Hong Kong by Brown Westhead-Moore & Co. circa 1868 with early Aesthetic background.

Detail of above plate

Another example of Hong Kong by Brown Westhead-Moore & Co. with a circular cartouche and different subject indicating that the pattern must be multi-motif.

A detail of the above plate.

Sado by Brownfield & Sons circa 1879-1881 depicting in a cartouche a group of angry Asian children. How does the West fetishize the children of the other?

Detail of the above pitcher

Plate in the Sado pattern by Brownfield & Sons, circa 1879-1881 depicting Asian children playing a board game.

Detail of above plate

Small oval plate in the Jeddo pattern by Brown Westhead-Moore & Co., circa 1872-1884. This pattern is interesting as it does not seem to be a romanticized depiction of the East, but more anthropological. In the rim cartouches there is a man carrying water buckets and an old man walking away with a cane with a dog. The other cartouches depict animals and landscape views.

Detail man carrying water

Detail old man with cane walking a dog

Soup plate in the Jeddo pattern by Brown Westhead-Moore, circa 1872-1884. In one of the rim cartouches a man is standing in the water fishing. In another a figure is carrying an intricate basket on his/her back. Again the feel here is more anthropological than a romantic version of Asia. The other cartouches depict mainly birds with one cartouche of a landscape with architecture.

Detail of fisherman

Detail of figure carrying basket

Detail of birds

Nankin possibly by Thomas Dimmock, circa 1828-1859. Compared to the Jeddo pattern above, this pattern is a romantic vision of the East.

Detail of above plate

Napier soup plate by J. Ridgeway, circa 1846-1850. Another example of the romanticized and exoticized East.

Detail of above soup plate

Pekin by T. G. & F. Booth, circa 1883-1891.

Art for Art’s Sake: 3 Aesthetic English Transferware Patterns on Ceramics

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Mon, 02 Jul 2012 22:18:00 +0000

In England, The Aesthetic Movement was an artistic movement that was a reaction and critique of the Industrial Revolution. It was art for art’s sake in which objects were made purely for their inherent beauty. The dominant medium of this movement in England was ceramics although the Aesthetic style influenced all modes of cultural production.

Dinner plate in the Nipon pattern by Doulton, 10.25”

A major component of the Aesthetic style was the influence of the arts of Japan. In 1854 diplomatic relations were established between Japan and the United States and in 1858 trade relations began between the 2 countries which allowed a large number of Japanese goods to enter the United States. The craze for things Japanese by the American public, however, did not really occur until the Centennial Exhibition of 1876 in Philadelphia with its spectacular Japanese exhibition.

The opening of Japan by the United States allowed other nations such as England to enter Japan and also be influenced by Japanese cultural objects. In 1872 the term Japonisme- art influenced by Japan- was first used by Jules Claretie in his book L’Art Francais and also by Phillipe Burty in his Japonisme III La Renaissance Literaire et Artistique. However, the term Anglo-Japanese was being used in England as early as 1851. It seems therefore that the influence of the arts of Japan in England perhaps occurred earlier than other countries.

The Japanese Court at the 1862 International Exhibition

Further support for this conclusion is the 1862 International Exhibition in London where there was an official Japanese section. The Japanese Court was organized by Sir Rutherford Alcock who had been the British Minister in Edo from 1858-1864. The Japanese area of the exhibition also included Alcock’s own extensive collection of Japanese objects.

Another factor in the prevailing influence of Japanese art in England earlier than elsewhere is the collection of Japanese art owned by James McNeil Whistler who moved to Great Britain in 1859. A final factor is the tradition of “oriental” influence on English design particularly in ceramics which allowed for an easy acceptance of Japanese objects and style. It of course also lead to a conflation and confusion of Japanese and Chinese motifs.

The following 3 Aesthetic patterns all demonstrate the influence of Japanese art. They all date from the early 1880’s, a decade that saw the greatest production and proliferation of Anglo-Japanese ceramics. All pieces pictured are part of my own collection.

I. Nipon by Doulton circa 1880

Dinner Plate, 10.25”

Over a ground of flowering branches, most likely from a fruit tree, is a zigzag ribbon with fishtail ends that makes three turns. The ribbon creates a central cartouche that depicts water hens at the edge of a body of water. In the left side of the cartouche is a mass of foliage. The other part of the ribbon on either side of the central cartouche depicts a geometric pattern reminiscent of a traditional European Greek key design.

However, the design on the plate also forms swastikas. The swastika is commonly found in the East. It is a Chinese character representing eternity and Buddhism and this character also entered the Japanese language. In Japanese art the swastika is often used in a repeating pattern. One common Japanese pattern is the sayagata which comprises left and right facing swastikas. This pattern in the Nipon plate is reminiscent of this Japanese design and could further relate to Japanese textiles.

A quick Google search turned up this 19th century underkimono:

While not an exact match to the pattern on the Nipon plate it certainly is evocative of it.

The following 19th century Japanese textile is an almost exact match to the pattern seen on the Doulton plate and a good example of a sayagata.

Soup Bowl 9.5”

The soup plate features geese eating fruit in the central cartouche.

Luncheon Plate 8”

The central cartouche of the luncheon plate features a pheasant beneath the bough of a pine tree.

II. Miako by Powell, Bishop and Stonier circa 1880

Miako is one of my favorite patterns and sadly I only have 2 examples of it. To me it is strikingly modern in its arrangement of elements and negative space. Like Nipon it demonstrates the influence of Japanese art not only through the asymmetry and placement of the elements in the design, but also with the motifs used.

Side plate 7.25”

Three elements make up the design of this plate: a cartouche depicting a stag, a pine tree branch and circular symbol reminiscent of a Japanese mon or heraldic badge.

Bread and butter plate, 5.5”

This small plate has the same pine bough and heraldic device as the larger plate. Here, however, the cartouche is in the shape of a fan with a bamboo handle tied with a ribbon. In the fan cartouche a bird and budding foliage is pictured.

III. Assouma by Doulton circa 1882-1886

Assouma is a whimsical pattern demonstrating its Japanese influence through its motifs and particularly its asymmetry. In each example a flowering branch reminiscent of peonies occupies the right side and upper half of the plate. Amidst the flowering the branch is a sprinkling of dots which create a most pleasing effect. On the bottom left of the plate are vases and pots with an Eastern feel.

Side Plate 7”

The vessel on this plate has a stylized decoration of clouds. It overlaps a mon with foliage and has the same fanciful dots seen on the upper part of the plate.

Plate 7. 875”

The tall vase on the larger plate has a floral and foliage design with the same dots seen on the upper section of the plate. The vase is filled with flowers and berries. Behind this vase is a small pot with the same stylized cloud design as seen on the smaller Assouma plate.

Sauce Tureen

The vases on the sauce tureen lid and under plate are both empty. The body of the tureen is filled with the flowering branch. The handles on the side of the tureen and the lid is a wonderfully stylized piece of fabric with tasseled ends.

To see more examples of English Aesthetic pottery or to start collecting these wonderful ceramics, these 2 dealers have extraordinary pieces for sale:

Eudora and 19th Century Decorative Arts

Aesthetic Movement Transferware

Imperialism and the Decorative Arts: Cairo by William T Copeland and Sons

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Tue, 19 Jun 2012 22:56:00 +0000

[F]rom 1815 to 1914 European direct colonial dominion expanded from about 35% of the earth’s surface to about 85% of it- Edward Said, Orientalism

Cairo is a multi-motif transferware pattern on English pottery by the Staffordshire manufacturer William T Copeland and Sons. The design was introduced in 1881 and appears to have been made throughout the decade. As a pattern Cairo is a strange mixture of Japanese elements and style combined with Egyptian motifs. The Far East component of the pattern links Cairo to the wider Aesthetic Movement in which Japanese art became a major influence on the decorative arts of the West in the 1870’s and 1880’s. English pottery was especially inspired by Japanese art producing a myriad of patterns. All pieces depicted here are from my own collection.

1. 13” Platter

Although multi-motif Cairo does possess some common elements among its types. The border in the pattern is an arabesque which is a form of decoration made up of rhythmic linear patterns of scrolling and interlacing leaves and tendrils. The arabesque is a common feature of Islamic art and its presence in the Copeland pattern nicely connects with the Egyptian motifs found in the design such as obelisks, pyramids, domed mosques and minarets.

In this 13” platter an Egyptian obelisk viewed from across a river (The Nile?) is pictured in a fan cartouche layered on top of a ground of bamboo. A smaller round cartouche overlaps the fan and depicts 3 small birds in flight. This layering of elements with insets with their own images is very reminiscent of Japanese art which is also recalled by the fan, the bamboo and the 3 birds. This layering design creates a sense of space and dynamism on the flat surface of the pottery.

2. Vegetable Bowl

In this 11.25” vegetable bowl the design on the bottom of the dish exhibits the same layered elements as the platter discussed above.

Instead of a fan cartouche, here there is an unfurled scroll that pictures a domed mosque and minaret seen from across a river. Beyond the horizontal scroll is another unfurled vertical scroll with some type of flower. The ground of the dish is decorated with what is perhaps some type of prunus with a flowering branch. The scroll and the flowering branch suggests Japanese motifs as does the layering design.

3. 6.5” Plate

This small 6.5” plate features the same flowering branch ground as the vegetable dish overlaid with 2 fan cartouches. One depicts a heron or stork; the other pictures minarets on a river with boats.

4. 8” Small Tray

The same flowering branch also appears on this 8” small tray. The piece features 2 cartouches. The larger one depicts what looks like a Chinese junk. Not surprisingly European often confused and conflated Japanese and Chinese elements. The boat cartouche overlaps a patterned cartouche which is reminiscent of a Japanese mon or heraldic device and may also be influenced by Japanese textiles.

5. 7.5” Plate

This 7.5” plate features a ground of irises with a large bird above in flight. Two interlocked and overlapping fans act as cartouches. One shows 3 birds in flight and the other building seen across a river (the Nile?) with 2 palm trees in the foreground.

6. 8.75” Plate

This luncheon plate exhibits the unfurling scroll revealing a landscape with a prominent minaret with a river in the background. Overlapped by the scroll are 2 round mons with intricate patterns which could relate to Japanese textiles. An iris is portrayed on the ground of the plate.

7. 10” Cake or Biscuit Plate

The ground of this cake or biscuit plate consists of a flowering branch and 3 birds in flight. The next layer features 2 mons with elaborate patterns. The top layer is another unfurling scroll cartouche portraying a 2 men walking and another riding a camel. This motif is also found on 10” dinner plates.

8. 9.75” Soup Bowl

This soup bowl has a background of a flowering branch on which are perched 2 charming birds. Also, on the ground of the bowl are 2 bugs- a butterfly and a fly. The scroll cartouche features a river scene with bamboo in the foreground and boats which perhaps reminds one of the type of vessel seen on the Nile.

9. 8.5” Soup Bowl

This smaller soup bowl has a ground of flowers and foliage. It has one mon on the lower right. The forward element is another unfurling Japanese scroll depicts a view of 2 pyramids seen in the distance across a river with a large tree and plants in the foreground. The pyramid is of course the symbol par excellence of Egypt.

10. Pickle Dish

The pickle dish has only 3 elements to its design. A flowering branch on the left as seen in almost all the other Cairo examples depicted here. On the left side of the dish are 2 cartouches, one a mon and they other depicting an Egyptian obelisk with figures amongst trees and seen from across a river. This motif is the same one found in the large 13” platter just reversed.

11. Coffee Can and Demitasse Cup

The coffee can design features a flowering branch overlaid with a mon and yet another unfurling scroll. Pictured in the scroll is a domed mosque with a minaret on a cliff with water and a boat in the foreground. The presence of water is in almost all of the Cairo examples depicted here. It is not farfetched to think that the designers of this pattern wanted all of these depictions of water to suggest the Nile to the spectator and the users of this pottery. The Nile like the pyramids is the paradigmatic symbol of Egypt.

The final example of Cairo is demitasse cup. On the cup there is the familiar unfurled scroll and mon, yet the building portrayed within the scroll seems more European than Egyptian. The saucer of the cup has a ground of a flowering branch and bamboo with 2 cartouches- one of 3 birds in flight, an element which appears on the 13” platter. The other cartouche depicts ruined columns. The capital of the large column seems to suggest an Egyptian column and of courses ancient ruins were also part of what was understood as Egyptian in the West.

12. Imperialism and Cairo

I began this post with a devastating and mind boggling fact from the late Edward Said”s Orientalism. By 1914 Europe controlled 85% of the surface of the globe. Perhaps the greatest European imperial power was the United Kingdom. The sun never sets on the British Empire. Cairo was first introduced in 1881 and the British occupation of Egypt occurred in 1882, The closeness of these events does not strike me as a coincidence. Cairo becomes a tool of imperialism, an expression of the British Empire. It is not simply a cultural artifact, a piece of pottery, an example of Aesthetic design. It is embedded in a historical and political moment and for that reason it is all the more appealing to me as a collector and thinker.

Mx Justin Vivian Bond, The Chanteuse of the New Millennium

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 08:01:00 +0000

“A bar of gold in the new depression”- Hilton Als describing Mx Justin Vivian Bond

This past Sunday 20 November 2011 I had the pleasure of seeing Mx Justin Vivian Bond perform at Joe’s Pub for the third time. I have encountered Mx Bond since the mid-1990’s when Mx performed at SqueezeBox! and hosted a party in the East Village called Foxy. Mx’s biting, about to go off the rails, wit provided endless moments of laughter and her passionate singing performances were also characterized by a liminal apocalyptic abandon that was appealing in the 1990’s queer landscape and simultaneously frightening as if Mx might cut you.

Photographs courtesy of JS

And I have seen Mx perform as the character Kiki, the grotesque, over the hill lounge singer of the duo Kiki & Herb. Those performances too were both alluring and seemingly dangerous. Where did Justin end and Kiki begin? Kiki might just cut you too.

Mx’s cabaret shows that I have seen at Joe’s Pub are no less passionate, no less overflowing with liminal apocalyptic abandon, but the songs Mx sings and those sung particularly on Sunday 20 November 2011. are replete with melancholy, loss and pain.

In contrast, Justin’s banter between songs is incredibly witty, funny and at times vulgar. Mx knows that the emotional intensity of the songs would be too much to bear without some relief, without some laughter. So, on Sunday, Mx recounted getting regular blowjobs from a seedy cab driver in the mid 90’s, volunteering as a candy striper as a teenager, falling in love with a fellow female volunteer, winning a Kate Bush album on the radio, playing the entire album over the phone for the teenage object of her affection. Laughter filled the room.

But while we (I) may enjoy the banter between songs, hearing Justin sing is why we (I) come again and again. As I wrote here the last time I saw Mx perform: While Justin Bond can be devilishly funny, her choice of songs and the manner in which she sings are full of longing and loss. They are always replete with tough emotion. They are poignant. They are cathartic. In this sense her form and content expresses what is essentially human: that life is about loss- loss of youth, loss of love, loss of friends and family. And despite our best efforts and the capitalist myths of everlasting life that surround us, we can never escape this haunting truth. Mx Justin Vivian Bond is the Chanteuse of the New Millennium.

Read my other posts about Mx Justin Vivian Bond here, here, here and see clips of Mx’s performances.

You Can’t Take It With You, But You Could Certainly Try…

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 04:58:00 +0000

“When you're dead, you're dead. That's it.”- Marlene Dietrich

The day before his death William S Burroughs wrote, “Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller. What there is . . . LOVE…”

We let it in
We give it out
And in the end
What's it all about?
It must be love- Kate Bush, “And So Is Love”

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine- The Smiths, “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”

And as your last breath begins, you'll find your demon’s your best friend, and we all get it in the end- Scott Matthews, “In The End” as sung by Mx Justin Vivian Bond

The Grave of Marlene Dietrich. The headstone states, “Here I stand at the mile-stone of my days.”

The Grave of William S. Burroughs

Mausoleum in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx

Recently, before having dinner with my goddaughter Nora, her parents and her older brother and sister, the subject of what we wanted to happen to our bodies after our death came up for discussion among the adults. A____, Nora’s mother, said she wanted to be cremated. Her husband, P____, agreed. My answer was a bit different and way more 19th century. “I want a mausoleum,” I said, “with a bronze pierced doorway that a visitor can look through and there see my bronze coffin raised on a stone plinth. On either side of the mausoleum door, I want large weeping angel sculptures with my name chiseled in stone above the doorway.”

P____ was amused and A____ was horrified. How could I envision such an ungreen, space hogging, archaic ending for my life. She said that if I died before her, she would just cremate me anyway. And I said I would haunt her for all eternity if she went against my wishes. I know my goddaughter who will be the executor of my will (which will explicitly detail the funding and building of the mausoleum with all my specifications) will carry out my wishes no matter what her mother says.

According to an eerily accurate psychic that I saw almost 20 years ago, I am supposed to live to the ripe old age of 96 which is fine with me as long as I have my mind. The year of my death will be 2063. Nora will be 54 years old. And she will sell all of my antiques and build my mausoleum and I will in a sense live forever.

The year is 2140. 2 young people are touring the cemetery where I am interred in my little house with the weeping angels. They read my name above the door and Google it with the chip in their brain. They discover this blog and while picnicking at my eternal front door, they read The Great Within and they are impressed. They laugh, they cry, they think. They read this post about my mausoleum and they enjoy a self-reflexive post(post)postmodern moment.

In our discussion of death that night P____, Nora’s father, rightly concluded that after one generation, no one comes to visit your grave anyway and even the generation after you sometimes doesn’t even bother to come. But, there are always those random visitors to the cemetery and Google and eternal digital life.

One may think it is odd that I am thinking about my death at this moment in my life. A friend recently described me as “vibrant”- an accurate assessment which is a wonderful feeling after so many difficult years in which I struggled with depression. Now the right combination of doctors and medicine has given me a new life fostered above all by the presence of my goddaughter, Nora. When I wrote recently that, “She saved my life”, I was not being dramatic or grandiose. She really did rescue me from the dark depths.

So, why am I slightly obsessed with my own passing and my own afterlife in a mausoleum? My desire to have a mausoleum for my remains is half in jest and half (pardon the pun) deadly serious. Death sucks. It is not romantic or spiritual; it is dirty and banal and simply a part of life. And perhaps I want my beautiful mausoleum to counter death’s dirtiness and banality with a small aesthetic jewel that will say with its presence- “I was here, I slogged through all the shit of the world and I survived.” I am eternal and so is this blog.

And I don’t think you ever get over losing a loved one. It’s like losing a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. There are holes and gaps that distort the picture and leave empty spaces in your heart. You, of course, do move on from loss in death, but only because that is really the only response.

There are several holes in my puzzle- my maternal grandmother Hedwig, my paternal grandmother Anne, my step-grandmother Emma, Aunt Mimi, Aunt and of course more empty spaces will be created as I get older, but we can all take comfort because eventually we will all be together in the splendid, many roomed palace in the sky.

But my body will be in a bronze coffin resting on a plinth in a stone mausoleum with a bronze gated doorway with weeping angels on either side. Above the door chiseled in stone- “Kelly T Keating 1967-2063. He survived the shit…”

Here are some pictures that are sources of inspiration for the design of my mausoleum:

Tomb of Napoleon at Les Invalides, Paris, France.

Cenotaph of Archduchess Maria Christina, Duchess of Teschen (1742-1798) by Antonio Canova, Augustinerkirche, Vienna, Austria. The Archduchess is actually buried in the Tuscan Vault of the Imperial Crypt in Vienna, along with her husband and daughter, Maria Theresa who only lived one day.

Maria Christina before she turned to dust at the age of 24 in 1766 by an unknown artist. She was called "Mimi", was the fourth daughter and fifth child of Maria Theresa of Austria and Francis I, Holy Roman Emperor. She was the Regent (governor) of the Austrian Netherlands in 1781-1793.

Cenotaph of Archduchess Maria Christina detail.

Cenotaph of Archduchess Maria Christina detail. This angel is what I want for my mausoleum and of course my tomb won’t be empty. My body will be in a bronze coffin lined with satin, my head on a satin pillow.

Henri Chapu, Detail of the Tomb of Helene, the Duchess of Orléans, 1885, marble, life-size, Royal Chapel, Dreux.

Helene Luise Elisabeth of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, Duchess of Orleans (1814–1858) holding her son, Philippe by Franz Xaver Winterhalter, 1839, oil on canvas, Palace of Versailles. She was a French Crown Princess after her marriage in 1837 to the eldest son of Louis Philippe I, Ferdinand Philippe of Orléans. She was the mother of the future Count of Paris and Duke of Chartres. Her descendants include the present Count of Paris as well the present-day pretenders to the throne of France and Italy and the kings of Spain and Belgium.

Memorial to Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette by Edme Gaulle and Pierre Petitot in the Basilica of St. Denis, Paris.

Marie Antoinette on her way to the guillotine by Jacques-Louis David, 1793, pen and ink, Louvre, Paris.

Tomb of the Duke of Clarence by Alfred Gilbert, 1892-1899, marble, bronze, aluminum, ivory, Albert Memorial Chapel, Windsor. Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale (Albert Victor Christian Edward; 1864 – 1892) was the eldest son of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII) and Alexandra, Princess of Wales (later Queen Alexandra), and the grandson of the reigning monarch, Queen Victoria.

Detail of Tomb of The Duke of Clarence. The angel is made out of aluminum.

Mausoleum in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx

Candy Darling on Her Deathbed by Peter Hujar

The Antique Flâneur and The Petite Flâneuse Stroll Through the City- 9 November 2011 Edition

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 04:33:00 +0000

“Gran Elefandret” in Union Square by by the Spanish artist Miquel Barceló. Made of bronze, it weighs five tons and stands 26 feet tall.

On Wednesday morning 9 November 2011 at 9am I was receiving the delivery of my new (and by new I mean new to me, but old to everyone else, probably 1930’s in date) walnut bookcase to be placed in my bedroom. The giant 7 foot tall bookcase in the drawing room has been overflowing with books for months now and there was simply no place to put a new title- a condition that to me was unacceptable. Without new books one stagnates.

I found my bookcase in Long Valley, New Jersey. It is not only beautiful with its 3 glasses doors with wood tracery, but it will hold many books and will hopefully for awhile contend with my literary overflow. What will happen when this bookcase is filled is anybody’s guess.

Until I need it. I decided that the center area of the bookcase will be dedicated to the display of objets d’art which as you know dear readers I have plenty of things tucked away in cabinets far from the light of day ready to have their moment. Stay tuned.

Since I had the delivery at 9, I was going to take care of my goddaughter for the day starting at 10. I met her and her mother in Union Square where A____, her mother and my non-blood sister, had a meeting. From Union Square Nora and I set out for Bryant Park to ride Le Carrousel. What follows is what we saw along the way…what an adventure…

We first saw the giant bronze elephant standing in great defiance of gravity on its trunk in Union Square. Nora was thrilled by the site of it and I must admit so was I. It is a wonderful and whimsical piece of urban public art.

From Union Square, we headed up Broadway and stopped in at ABC Home where we were dazzled by the sparkling Christmas display. Of course, my favorite ornament there was a blown glass polar bear. I should be a polar bear, but it’s impossible…

On our way up Broadway, I noticed some lovely architectural details on a building around 18th or 19th.

A corner embellishment with a blank cartouche.

A neoclassical bell flower motif around a doorway. It reminded me of the “Medallion” teapot by Reed & Barton also with bell flowers, circa 1865-68 in my collection.

Neoclassical “Medallion” silverplate teapot by Reed & Barton, circa 1865-1868.

Bellflower detail on Medallion pot.

Our next stop was Design Within Reach. I must admit that I was a little out of my element here, me being a 19th century kind of fella, but I could certainly appreciate all of the fab pieces in the store.

Chandeliers made out of resin.

Ghost chair. I find these chairs really appealing and there is part of me that would like one for my drawing room.

Side table made of wood dipped in pure silver. Gorgeous and pricey.

After Design Within Reach, Nora and I stopped into Restoration Hardware as I wanted to look at their Christmas ornaments. Don’t go- their Christmas stuff is sh*t. I did however like:

Giant birdcage chandelier- wacky and makes you feel like you are living in a dollhouse.

Mannerist Wing Chairs- Expensive distortion of a classic.

Faux fur throw- I should be a polar bear, but it’s impossible…

The highlight of our trip to Bryant Park was a stop at the Showplace Antique Center. On our way there we passed this intricate gate.

If only the drawing room had a fireplace…

Nicely priced brass elephant. It would be fab as a centerpiece on a glass dining table with a pair of chandeliers and this trumpeter in the center.

Brass duck head detail on red metal bench.

More duck heads on metal harp/shield back black chairs. These chairs really appealed to me.

Anyone need a giant porcelain cat for the living room?

Nora really liked this zebra footstool. Elvis Presley jungle room anyone?

Stone garden Sphinx.

Sky bridge over 32nd Street. Still think these would make fab apartments.

Finally, Nora and I arrived at Bryant Park and headed to Le Carrousel. When we boarded the ride, “Je ne regrette rien” sung by Edith Piaf was playing. Soundtrack of my life…Nora decided to ride the lone frog instead of a horse.

I stood next to her, so she would not fall off the amphibian. The ride started and it goes a bit fast for little kids and even me. Nora became scared and since we were the only people on the ride, I made the operator stop it. (Well, even if it was full of people, I would have made him stop it. What my goddaughter wants, my goddaughter gets.) So, we moved to the sedate bench decorated with peacock feathers and enjoyed the rest of the merry-go-round.

Bryant Park has a wonderful French feeling and that day it was teeming with cute boys- office drones let out for lunch. Delicious. Our last stop before heading back downtown was the Library lions on Fifth Avenue. Nora thought they were fab and growled her approval.

Recently Acquired Images of The Forbidden City

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 12:04:00 +0000

As regular readers of my blog know, its title The Great Within is the literal translation of the Chinese characters for The Forbidden City. The Forbidden City is the conceptual framework of this blog, not only as a real, historical and physical place, but also as a site of my own fantasy, a displaced and sublimated artifact of my own desire.

Regular readers also know that I am fixated on a particular part of The Forbidden City: The Garden of Forgotten Favorites. This Garden was an area of the city in which concubines of a dead Emperor languished until death. I fantasize about being an Imperial concubine sadly out of a job, whose official life was over and who now waited for death surrounded by splendor.

This obsession has lead me to look for old images of The Forbidden City that might provide a concrete image of my fantastical concubine desire and provide a border, the photographic frame, to locate my obsession.

I almost exclusively look for old images of The Forbidden City especially at the end of the Qing Dynasty as I am always fascinated by the end of things, when the great project falls apart and utopian dreams become a dystopian reality.

I recently found this late 19th century stereoscope card of The Forbidden City (see below) made during the regency of Tzu Hsi of Cixi (1835-1908) who was the defacto ruler of China from 1861 until her death in 1908. She installed Puyi as the last Emperor of China on November 14 the day before her death.

Puyi would “rule” China until he was forced to leave The Forbidden City in 1924. During World War II he would become the puppet Emperor the Japanese created state of Manchukuo in Manchuria.

Puyi at 3 years old with his father Prince Chun and his younger brother

Puyi in 1922

Puyi as Emperor of Manchukuo (1932-1945)

In the movie, The Last Emperor, there is a scene where Puyi is brought to The Forbidden City to become Emperor and see Cixi who is seated on a plinth and all tricked out. She is dying and the Buddhist monks are chanting. When she dies a giant black pearl is placed in her mouth…swoon. That’s how I want to leave this earth.

Late 19th Century Stereoscope of The Gate of Supreme Harmony with forecourt and canal after one enters The Forbidden City through the Meridian Gate

The caption of the stereoscope reads, “Within The Forbidden City, home of the Empress Dowager- Harmony Gate from elevated walk near Canal, Peking China.” Standing in marked contrast to the caption is the image itself in which the forecourt looks a bit run down, covered with weeds, the madness of weeds. Amidst this decay, stands a lone male figure, a eunuch perhaps, who is not the Dowager Empress, but a lowly servant standing alone against a desolate landscape. This stereoscope foretells the end of the Qing Dynasty and I revel in its dystopian decay in a haze of decadence.

Stereoscope detail

Other recently acquired images of The Forbidden City:

Postcard of The Gate of Supreme Harmony 1910-1930

The Gate of Supreme Harmony circa late 1920’s

Written on the reverse: “Near entrance to a building in Forbidden City- Peking, China, Apr. 16, 1929

The Hall of Supreme Harmony, late 1920’s

Strolling Through the City with The Antique Flâneur and The Petite Flâneuse…

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 02:55:00 +0000

The sky on 20 October 2011 in New York City

When I take care of my goddaughter on Thursdays, we travel to the East Village in mid-morning to go to music class taught by the very chipper, very enthusiastic, very effervescent M____, former Carnival Cruise performer. I jest; she is a great teacher for the toddlers in the class. And honestly, 45 minutes of making whopping noises, singing la la la, pounding a beat on the floor and singing songs like Shoo Fly Shoo is good for the adult soul.

After class Thursday 20 October it was such a beautiful day, I decided we should have a Flâneur and a Petite Flâneuse moment and stroll around the city. So, we set off from music class on a lovely sojourn. The clouds were so beautiful that day, creating all kinds of shapes and movement in the sky. I’m cloudbusting daddy…

As we walked my goddaughter and I often do call and response singing while we walk. I sing “Dee dee…” and she replies, “Do do…” and so on. It is fun and a way for us to keep connected while she is in the stroller and I am pushing it behind her.

Our first stop on our journey was St. Mark’s Comics. I needed to get my goddaughter’s older brother who is 9 a comic book, comics being a fairly recent interest. G is a wonderful, creative kid, bursting with artistic talent and ideas, He draws constantly coming up with new characters and new storylines as he produces his own comics. The latest group of characters are called The Maniacs with creepy figures such as Dr. Knife, Gemini and Doll. It’s totally fab.

The Maniacs by GTW, pencil on paper, 2011

Earlier in the week I had taken him to Manhattan Comics on 23rd Street across from Madison Square Park. I had noticed it on the bus one day and knew that he had not been there. There, he bought one of the new 52 number ones by DC Comics- their reboot of 52 characters. G bought a Superman comic with our impervious hero (I am, I am Superman and I can do anything…) wearing jeans, work boots and his signature “S” top.

Since my goddaughter and I were close to St. Marks Comics I decided to buy Superman #2 there which had just come out for a Halloween present for G. Along the way on St. Marks Place we saw this pile of pumpkins, seemingly tossed without care in front of a store.

Unfortunately, St. Mark’s Comics was sold out of Action Comics Superman #2, but I did find N___ a My Little Pony for Halloween. It’s swell.

Luckily, Manhattan Comics on 23rd Street had a #2 Superman. Here is the cover:

Um….hmmm…a bit homoerotic no? The invincible Superman is tied down to what appears to be an electric chair. His shirt is ripped; his muscles are straining against the restraints. His eyes are red with fury, passion, anger, desire and he is being confronted by four very phallic guns. What is the narrative here?

To make our way from the East Village to Madison Square Park where the comic shop is located, N___ and I walked up Broadway and then onto Park Avenue at Union Square where we stopped at Starbucks for a treat. Vanilla cookies for her. (Godfather’s prerogative.) and an iced skinny vanilla latte for me. We continued up Park, enjoying our call and response singing while I took pictures of interesting architectural elements.

One of the first buildings of note that we passed was the old Union Square Savings Bank which was built in 1905-1907 according to the designs of Henry Bacon. The style is classical academic with its Roman temple-like front with Corinthian columns.

I love the windows on the side of the building with the giant mullions of circles in squares and rectangles.

Next, I noticed an interesting frieze on The Mills & Grubb Building at 300 Park Avenue at 22nd Street consisting of a central cartouche framed by 2 cherubs.

The building was built in 1910 and the frieze demonstrates its Beaux Arts style which is an academic neo-classical style that was influential in America from 1880-1920 and was often eclectic in its selection of decorative motifs.

My goddaughter and I continued up Park Avenue until we came to the MetLife buildings on Madison Square Park. The Met Life Tower was built in 1909 as the new headquarters of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company. It was added to the original 1893 headquarters. The 700ft, 51 stories tall building was modeled on the campanile at St. Mark's Square in Venice. When constructed, it was the tallest building in the world. It would keep that title until the completion of the Woolworth Building in 1913.

Next to the MetLife tower, across 24th street, is another Metropolitan Life Insurance building, known as the North Building. Originally, this Art Deco building was designed to be an immense 100 story tall tower. This tower would give the title of the world's tallest building back to the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, but the Great Depression made an abrupt end to these plans: only the 29 first floors were built before construction was stopped in 1932 and finally completed in 1950.

Here are some pictures of the fabulous and superb Deco details of the 1930’s building:

My favorite part of this group of buildings is the sky bridge that spans East 24th Street.

I always thought a sky bridge would make a fabulous apartment. Looking at the sky bridge on the 2o October I was reminded once again of Roland Barthes statement, “There is where I want to live…” As Barthes says the womb is the only place we all surely have been and the desire, my desire, to live in the air in a sky bridge is in the end a desire for the womb, for the pre-Oedipal, for an existence where one has not been castrated by language. Where there is no I, where there is only one. Thank you Mr. Lacan.

From Madison Square Park we continued east back to her apartment. On our way home we passed another great Art Deco building Gramercy House at 235 East 22nd Street which was built in 1930 by George and Edward Blum.

In contrast to this Deco design we passed a single story 19th century structure on East 19th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenue. I love its false stepped pediment, crenellated applied molding and offset door and window. It is amazing that such a structure has survived in the modern urban landscape.

There is where I want to live…

As we made our way over to 1st Avenue and home, other things caught our eye as we circled back around and walked east across 23rd Street.

Opera Guild Thrift Shop Window- Fab 1960’s matching coat and dress.

Detail of 1960’s ensemble.

Deli Flowers

The End

NORA NOODLE OF NEW YORK CITY

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 03:50:00 +0000

My goddaughter Nora is now 2 years old and I am lucky enough to be her Mary Poppins two and a half days every week. Spending so much time with her and watching her grow is the great joy of my life. But, there was a point in my life not many years ago where everything seemed to stop, became routine, desperate and full of anguish and then suddenly a new story begins and a little girl comes into the world and hope emerges where before there was little. I thank god everyday for her; she saved my life.

When she was born, she had a birthmark on her head underneath her hair and this mark started me thinking that she was somehow very special. So, with this thought in mind, I wanted to create something for her that demonstrated how important she was to me and something that she would have for the rest of her life.

So, I wrote a story about her and about me becoming her nanny(with some good input and editing from my dear friend DS). Nora Noodle of New York City is the title. I found a wonderful artist named Chris Ams who brought the book alive with fantastic illustrations. And he handmade a book for her. I cannot thank him enough. Go to his website. Hire him! He is also a very talented jazz/soul singer as well.

Once upon a time, millions of years ago, there lived a little angel in Heaven. Her name was Nora Noodle. She had sparkly silver butterfly wings with edges of brilliant pink.

Time had no meaning in Heaven, and Nora Noodle could do whatever her heart desired. She spent never ending sunny days playing hide ‘n’ seek in the fields and woods with the other cherubs, swimming in the sparkling blue waters trying to catch golden frogs, listening to the older angels playing beautiful music on their lutes and eating sweet cakes filled with raspberry jam. Life was full of timeless wonderment and fun.

One day as she was gathering flowers, she suddenly heard the Great Voice speaking to her. "Nora Noodle, it is time for you to go to Earth to begin your life as a mortal child." Now, Nora Noodle had overheard hushed whispers about earth from the older angels, but she was not quite sure what it was. However, when the Great Voice asked you to do something, you did it and didn't ask any questions. To prepare her for her adventure on Earth, The Great Voice kissed her head leaving a mark that glittered silver and gold in the moonlight of Earth.

Suddenly, everything was quiet. Nora could no longer hear the singing birds or feel the gentle breeze of Heaven.

THEN WHOOSH! WET! UNDER WATER!

Nora Noodle heard voices, but they did not sound like the singing voices of angels. They were deeper and sharper, but also sweet. And then she heard another sound. A sound she had never heard before. Someone was crying, someone was screaming...and suddenly Nora Noodle realized that this sound was coming from her own mouth.

She looked up and saw her new family: a tall gentle daddy with red hair, a beautiful mommy with dark hair and eyes, a caring older sister with long golden hair and an older brother with a quick warm smile and devilish freckles. When the family saw the glittering mark on Nora Noodle's head, they knew she was special.

As days passed, Nora Noodle realized she could not walk, run or play as she once had, but could merely lie about or be held by her new family. They were kind and comforted her when she was upset. The beautiful mommy gave her the sweetest, warmest milk that Nora Noodle had ever tasted. It was better than anything she had ever eaten in Heaven. She liked her new life, even though she was just a little bit scared.

One day the beautiful mommy with the dark hair and eyes got a new job. Someone would have to watch Nora Noodle when the beautiful mommy was at work. For many years the family had known a gentlemen named The Flâneur. He lived alone with many beautiful, old things. He coveted his collections, and spent many hours alone searching for the finest art. Its beauty intrigued him, as did its history. He also was known to stroll throughout New York City. And in this activity, too, he was an observer, looking for beauty as others played, shopped for groceries, walked their dogs, and went about their daily lives. Although he was content he was sometimes sad and felt alone. One day, it occurred to him that perhaps he could take care of Nora Noodle!

The family agreed! On sunny days The Flâneur would take Nora Noodle out in her carriage and the two would stroll together throughout New York City. Nora Noodle loved to stroll through the city. So many sights and sounds that she had never seen or heard in Heaven fascinated her. Together they were The Flâneur and The Petite Flâneuse.

On some days it was difficult for The Flâneur to get Nora Noodle to take her naps. Sleep annoyed Nora Noodle. She had never slept in Heaven. Why should she have to sleep now?! And besides, she might miss something when she was asleep, something important.

But The Flâneur understood these things about Nora Noodle. He could sense her curiosity and emerging passion for life. So, even with the fussing and crying, The Flâneur loved to be with her and felt great happiness. Sometimes, he was even able to get Nora Noodle to sleep, if only for a short while.

And as the days passed, The Flâneur smiled more and was happier. He realized that Nora Noodle was sent from Heaven by The Great Voice as a special gift to her family and The Flâneur for all of them to love and cherish. To be sharing so much love and happiness was a wonderful feeling, and Nora realized that living on earth was even better than being in Heaven.

And they all lived happily ever after… and Nora Noodle even learned to love going to sleep.

Silver Desire: My London Booty

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 11:54:00 +0000

Detail Apollo Flaying Marsyas by Antonio Corradini, 1719-23, marble, Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

On my recent trip to London I did not visit the extraordinary London Silver Vaults as I had done in 2010. I would have loved to have seen Mr. David Shure again, the elegant dealer with the posh accent and pink cuff linked shirt who sold me a gorgeous sterling tea strainer hallmarked Walker & Hall, Sheffield, 1935. (Read about my visit here.)

Tea Strainer

Instead on this trip I decided to find other venues that sold silver. My lovely friend Sarah, herself a dealer here in New York City of American Aesthetic silverplate and English Aesthetic pottery (Visit her online Trocadero store for fabulous finds.) suggested that I go to the antique market at Bermondsey. The market is located near London Bridge and is know for having good silver.

The Bermondsey Market starts at about 4am and ends around 1pm and is held only on Fridays. Since I was staying in Brentford, I would have to take a commuter train to Waterloo Station and then the Jubilee tube line to London Bridge. So, I took at 6:09am train to Waterloo and I arrived at the market at 7am.

Bermondsey is a small market full of quality stuff and friendly dealers. There was a great deal of silver on offer as well as jewelry, porcelain, antique drawings, yet silver, sterling and plate was predominant. My first purchase was from a lovely dealer named Sallie who also has a stall on Portobello Road. She had some beautiful things especially a great selection of silver handled paper knives with ivory blades. Gorgeous.

A pierced ladle grabbed my attention. It was a large sugar sifter or saupoudreuse, literally “sprinkler” in French, for sprinkling sugar or powdered sugar on berries or cakes. The piercing on the bowl is in the form of flowers and leaf sprigs and is just magnificent. The handle has a nice shield cartouche with an elaborate at least 3 letter monogram.

Looking at the marks on the sifter, I realized the piece was French sterling. Sallie said she believed it was late 19th century, circa 1880, but I had a hunch that it was perhaps a bit earlier. So, I bought the sifter for a good price.

Back in New York I researched the marks. French sterling usually has an assay mark of the head of Ceres or Minerva which was a guarantee for large items assayed in Paris. The ladle did have the Ceres head seen at the top of the photograph on the right. It also had another head mark called a Michelangelo or more commonly Le Viellard, The Old Man. It is the third mark done in the photograph. The Old Man denoted the purity of the piece to be .950 silver which is higher than the sterling standard of .925.

When these 2 marks appear together it indicates a date of 1819-1838. Also, the Le Viellard mark only appears during that Bourbon Restoration period.

Yet, who was the maker of the sugar sifter? There is another small mark between the heads, unevenly struck and rubbed, of a hammer and crescent. Additionally, there is a C & D letter mark below The Old Man mark. At first I thought the C & D marks were the maker’s initials, but could not find a corresponding match on a silver hallmark site online.

So, I turned to my colleagues at SMPub, a wonderful silver website that has a multitude of forums on all aspects and types of silver. I posted my query and pictures of the sifter and learned that the small, rubbed mark of the hammer and crescent was, indeed, the maker’s mark and the C & D marks were actually the initials of the owner, a common practice in French silver.

The hammer/crescent mark indicates the work of Jean-Baptiste-Vast Harleux (What a fabulous name!!!) who was in business in Paris from 1824 to 1875. This mark was only used until 1834. Therefore, my sugar sifter narrowed down further in date to the 10 year period from 1824-1834. My hunch proved correct and now I have my first piece of French silver, a saupoudreuse, and it is a beauty!

The next item I bought at Bermondsey was a beautiful reticulated and floral engraved English sterling bon bon dish in the shape of a shell. I love the shell motif in silver and have several examples of this design from different periods, but this item was my first shell of English origin. The piece is hallmarked Martin, Hall & Co. (a good maker), Sheffield, 1899.

Besides its beauty, it is a little confection, it appeals to me also as a piece of silver made at the very end of the Victorian period. In 15 short years, the 19th century will truly end, its idealism, its rationality, its sense of progress (all fictitious of course) all destroyed, all imploded with the advent of The Great War.

Besides Bermondsey, I also went earlier in my London trip to Grays Antiques off Bond Street in London. If you are looking for a wonderful piece of antique or vintage jewelry, this is the place to go. There are 2-3 silver dealers at Grays and my favorite is Arnold of AMS Antiques. (Stop in and tell him The Antique Flâneur sent you.) He has a good collection of English silverplate and sterling. I had visited him in 2010 and bought a plate engraved server which like my new shell dish was made by Martin, Hall & Co.

This visit I found a gorgeous silverplate pierced cream jug on a tripod base with paw feet with a foliate scroll handle and a hand-blown ruby red glass liner. It is rare to find a piece with its glass liner intact. The piece is unmarked, but probably dates to 1880-1900.

The shape of the creamer’s body is to me reminiscent of a very traditional, very Georgian helmet shaped creamer. This correspondence suggests a later date when Edwardian restraint replaced the overindulgent fussiness of the Victorians. Yet, a typical Georgian helmet shaped creamer is usually more tapered as the body moves towards the base and ends in a pedestal base not feet. And it has a handle that extends beyond the body of the creamer. In contrast, the tripod feet emanating from double shield cartouches and terminating in paw feet of my creamer seems to me more suggestive of the Victorian era, yet the foliate scroll handle is more traditional.

Either way in terms of date, it is a great piece and goes nicely with a George V sterling sugar basket also with a hand-blown ruby glass liner in my collection. Read about this piece here. Though not a pair, there is a nice dialogue between these 2 silver items that pleases me. I look forward to using this married pair at my next silver dessert soirée.

My trip to London allowed me to add some wonderful pieces to my silver collection. I look forward to returning to London next year and finding more silver booty. Bermondsey awaits…

An Afternoon at the National Gallery, London

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 23:03:00 +0000

A View of Big Ben from Trafalgar Square, London

On Saturday 17 September 2011 I journeyed to London by train from Brentford where I was staying with my dearest friend H____. The night before she married her longtime beau A____ in a gorgeous, intimate and heartfelt wedding in which I officiated; I even got to wear a fab black robe with bishop sleeves and black velvet trim for the occasion. The night ended at about 3am after a long day of setting up the venue (I did the gigantic, rockin’ floral arrangements for the tables of large berry branches, oak leaves and a purplish/brown leaf which was similar to eucalyptus), a night of good feelings, good food, good music and good love.

The next day I slept in a bit, but no rest for the weary, I went into London to go to the National Gallery. I had not been there since the summer of 1987, nor had I visited the museum when I was in London in the spring of 2010. (Check out my other posts about the 2010 trip here, here, here, here and here.)

When I was living in London in the summer of 1987, I was an intern at the Dulwich Picture Gallery, a small museum filled with gorgeous 17th and 18th century paintings. I did research for the museum on an upcoming exhibition on Gainsborough which took me all over London. Between moments of research and wearing white gloves while examining 18th century documents, I would always stop in the National Gallery for 15 or 20 minutes if I was close by. Mostly, I always went to look at one painting, The Execution of Lady Jane Grey by Paul Delaroche, Salon of 1834. (See my posts about this captivating work here and here.) After my brief viewing, I was then back to my research.

When I returned to the National Gallery on 17 September, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude and quality of the National Gallery collection. I was dizzy and swooning amongst all these delicious creations in paint. Here are six works that particularly made me stop and look intently. They “grabbed me by the throat” as the art historian Simon Schama would say.

1. Saint Francis in Meditation by Francisco de Zurbarán, 1635-1639, oil on canvas, 152 x 99 cm.

In a shallow, dimly lit space Zurbarán depicts Saint Francis on his knees, hands clasped holding a skull, wearing the hooded robe of a Capuchin monk, his face in shadow, lips parted, seemingly looking up to heaven. It is a silent painting of religious devotion and contemplation, but it is also an earthly meditation on the nature of painting itself. How does one convincingly represent form, light, space on a 2 dimensional surface in the medium of paint?

The figure of Saint Francis is extremely plastic, well-modeled in light and shadow. He firmly occupies the quiet space of the work and seems almost able to enter our own realm outside the painting. His lips are parted slightly as if he is about to speak or perhaps he has heard God himself? Indeed, his right hand bears the stigmata of Christ.

This painting stopped me and “grabbed me by the throat” with its silent, simple depiction of devotion, faith, thought. As a viewer, I am a voyeur to the saint’s private act of prayer. Through my gaze I join him in the mystery of faith regardless of my own non-religious life. I feel his devotion. I meditate on it- this amorphous, unknowable, unquantifiable thing in contrast to the naturalistic, “worldly” rendering of the figure in all his physicalness, in all his solidity as if I could reach out and touch him.

Meditation on God becomes a rumination on the nature of representation and the rendering of paint. The spiritual and the natural combine and produce a powerfully evocative work of art.

2. Lord John Stuart and his Brother, Lord Bernard Stuart by Anthony van Dyck, circa 1638, oil on canvas, 237.5 x 146 cm.

The two brothers stand before us, Lord John on the left looks off into the distance while his brother Lord Bernard stares out at the viewer. They both have a look of smug arrogance, displaying their station in life for all to see, not only by having a large, full length portrait of themselves painted by a significant and famous artist, but also in their clothes and elegant poses. Van Dyck delights in the rendering of their costumes, in the opulence and richness of the fabric, the satin and leather and the trims of lace which adorn them and set them apart from the rest of us. Look at their magnificent shoes!

Also, notice the elegant placement and graceful rendering of the brother’s hands. The beautiful depiction of the hands which is always a Van Dyck signature confirms and exhibits their good breeding and their noble family history. All of these features combine, so that the brothers seem to be saying to the viewer, “Aren’t we fabulous?” and “We are glad that we are not you.”

Yet, when one reads the wall plaque accompanying this work, one learns that the 2 brothers supported King Charles I in the English Civil War and lost their lives in the conflict because of it. Suddenly, they are no longer smug, but simply dead or perhaps their death resulted from the very arrogance on display that also caused King Charles I to lose his head.

3. Winter Landscape by Caspar David Friedrich, circa 1811, oil on canvas, 32.5 x 45 cm.

Winter Landscape by Caspar David Friedrich is a small jewel of a painting that I would have loved to slip into my bag for my drawing room. In a beautifully rendered snowy scene, a man has thrown down his crutches and is praying at a roadside wooden crucifix seemingly asking for help with his earthly affliction.

In the left background a hallucinatory church emerges in the snow and mist. It is a promise of everlasting salvation, no matter one’s lot in the physical world. But, is it real or a vision?

The center of the composition is dominated by gigantic, majestic pine trees, still green despite the winter. The work seems to convey the beauty and pain of the natural world and how we can all be solitary, lonely figures on earth like the man with the crutches praying to the crucifix. The promise of salvation, of redemption, of heaven (represented by the church) is there to greet us all upon our death and take away all of our pain and surround and enmesh us in a beauty greater than the material world, here evoked by the pine trees. Winter Landscape is a deeply moving work, seemingly simple, more than just the depiction of nature, but a meditation on the meaning of life.

4. Portrait of a Young Man by Titian, circa 1515-1520, oil on canvas, 92 x 70 cm.

This painting by Titian is a bit of a gratuitous choice. I was drawn to this work not merely because of Titian’s ability to deliciously render fabrics and textures in paint along with his beautiful sense of coloring, light and shadow- just look at his ability to render the black silk of the sitter’s costume- but because I thought the subject was dead sexy. He has a strong nose and jaw and along with his hair his overall appearance could be that of a 21st century hipster if it were not for his 16th century fashion.

He looks contemplative as he stares out at what we don’t know. This far away gaze makes him more appealing to me and allows me to visibly apprehend him without him catching me looking. I can admire his beauty and his rockin’ threads.

Also, there is something decidedly sexual about his one ungloved right hand. He holds the right hand glove in his left hand that rests on the parapet which separates his world from mine. All that is visible on the right hand is the thumb that emerges strikingly from the folds of black silk fabric. For me the ungloved, luminous thumb appearing out of the “darkness” is a displacement of the young gentlemen’s penis. The portrait changes from contemplative to sexual to masturbation to exhibitionism. Or is it just me? I have always had this notion that the shape and appearance of a man’s thumb corresponds to some degree to the shape and appearance of his penis. So, perhaps when I look at this painting, my understanding of it is predetermined. No, I don’t think so. It is an erotic and sexual image and it all resides in that thumb.

5. Two Boys Blowing Bubbles by Caspar Netscher. circa 1670. oil on oak, 31 x 24 cm.

This 17th century Dutch painting is a small jewel. I would have it on my wall in a dead second. It has a gorgeous, glossy enamel finish, a licked surface, and the subject is sweet and endearing without being saccharine. Two boys are blowing bubbles an ageless, simple pastime that children still enjoy today. (My goddaughter loves blowing bubbles.) The boy in the foreground has removed his hat and is about to pop the bubble that floats serenely in the upper left of the painting. His companion in the right background is getting ready to blow another bubble.

As with much Dutch painting. this work is not simply a genre scene of childhood play, but a vanitas. The fragility of the bubble, its short existence, is a symbol of the transience of human life and the futility of worldly possessions such as the items on the right of the parapet, a silver dish and rare, exotic shells.

It has always fascinated how a society so capitalistic and mercantile like Dutch society in the 16th and 17th centuries also felt so guilty about its materialism and had to continually produce images that reminded everyone how all this worldly stuff meant shit and that in the end you were just going to be dust. You cannot take it with you.

The underlying vanitas goal of the painting helps to contain its sentimentality, so that it does not becoming cloying. It prevents a toothache. In the end, Netscher produces a magnificent work both grave and touching. It reminds us of the simple joys of childhood as well as the fragile nature of life in a luscious rendering of paint.

6. Interior by Vilhelm Hammershøi, 1899, oil on canvas, 64 x58 cm.

Before seeing this painting I was not familiar with the Danish artist Vilhelm Hammershøi. Interior is an arresting work overflowing with mystery and psychological tension. In a closed, sparse interior, a dining room, (there is no way out; the doors are closed, there are no windows) a woman stands with her back to the viewer. She refuses our gaze, ignores our presence and rejects her position as an object to be visually apprehended.

But what is narrative or subject of this painting? Is she waiting for someone? Is it a scene of quiet domesticity or domestic frustration? Has there just been an argument and now she is left alone in the dining room in its aftermath? Is she going crazy? This polysemy and lack of closure is testament to the work’s modernity and evokes the isolation, mental and otherwise, that seems to plaque all of us in the modern, capitalist world and continues to grow with the advancement of technology and its effacement of the body.

Hammershøi painted the interior of this house depicted here more than sixty times- sometimes just empty rooms or sometimes with his wife either from the back or in profile reading a letter or book. Interior is a contemplative work on one hand, but also on the other an obsession, a madness as if the artist continually depicted the interior of his house and his wife to figure out something that continually alluded his grasp.

So, if you are ever in London, run to the National Gallery and delight in its myriad of visual treasures.

The Sun Shines Out of Our Behinds on East 2oth Street in New York City

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 23:50:00 +0000

Pontormo, Vertumnus and Pomona, 1520-21, left side of lunette in the Poggio a Caiano, Villa Medici.

Today, walking east on 20th Street, past First Avenue between Peter Cooper Village and Stuyvesant Town, I suddenly found myself within a gaggle of teenager girls and boys all about 14, all talking, all listening to their IPods, with some riding skateboards. I could not seem to extricate myself from this pubescent group, so I overheard bits of their conversations. One exchange struck me in particular. A stylish boy in skinny jeans and colored topsiders related to his girl friend about his certain boy crush. The crush had just texted him and he did not want to appear to eager, he said to his friend.

This exchange made me smile and chuckle a bit. In my suburban dystopia at the age of 14 I was still in the closet. Not that my closet was a bad place; it was full of fantasy, desire, passion, Wonder Woman. Things only became tricky or uncomfortable when my queer self engaged with the very heterosexual world of my growing up like in the boys locker room in junior high. But still that became fodder for the pleasures of the closet in the end.

I thought to myself walking along East 20th Street how lucky this stylish boy was to be so young and so open about his sexuality and how the recent passage of marriage equality in New York State must be for him so life affirming and joyous. And as the teenage group passed me and the stylish boy moved out of my life, I thought, I hope you and your crush love each other till we all turn to dust.

The Smiths Hand in Glove live on Spanish TV in 1985

Miss Havisham finally walks down the aisle…

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 10:24:00 +0000

Recently, a same-sex marriage bill was passed and signed into law in New York. It is a tremendous historical moment for non-heterosexuals and I thank everyone who worked so very hard for many years to ensure its passage. And it is fitting that this law was enacted a day before the Gay Pride Parade here in New York City.

Growing up in the 70’s and 80’s, it never occurred to me that non-heterosexuals such as myself would one day be able to marry in a legal sense. Non-heterosexual visibility in my suburban world at the time was relegated to the very negative or to camp- Paul Lynn on Hollywood Squares or Billy Crystal on Soap. Not that this visibility really bothered me in my closet which was bursting with spectacular and unashamed desire. I found ways to express and solidify my queerness and accepted this fact within myself and then reconciled it with the world both heterosexual and non-heterosexual when I was 18.

In other posts on The Great Within, I have often compared myself to Miss Havisham still wearing her wedding dress amidst the cobwebs. Marriage equality in New York does nothing to alter that feeling. When I learned this law was passed, I was both happy and full of regret and sadness.

My Miss Havisham will probably never walk down the aisle. Even dating for me has been enduring a long drought, mainly because I don’t feel very attractive or desirable; my age and body make me feel invisible too.

This state of being bothers me at times, but mostly it feels strangely right.

Queering the Image 9: Venus and Adonis by Paul Cadmus and Marriage Equality

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 21:27:00 +0000

Paul Cadmus, Venus and Adonis, 1936, tempera and oil on linen on pressed wood panel, 28 5/8” x 32 1/2”, Forbes Magazine Collection.

Painted in 1936 by Paul Cadmus, Venus and Adonis is a humorous, sexual and perhaps misogynistic mediation on marriage and heterosexuality through the modern retelling of a Greek myth. The origin of the characters is suggested by the decidedly classical landscape in which they are portrayed. Within this reminiscent landscape, a shirtless Adonis is as expected tall, handsome, muscular and here presented as a contemporary tennis player proudly holding and displaying his racket and 2 (tennis) balls. With a look of disgust, he attempts to escape from his beloved Venus, here no modern goddess, but a figure out of Rubens who clings with desperation to Adonis. Heightening his disdain is the presence of (their?) screaming child, Cupid, located to the right of his mother. Adonis wishes to leave the social convention of wife/mother/child in order to join the other male tennis player in the left background for a match and use his racket and 2 balls. If the sexual nature of the 2 tennis players is not explicit enough Cadmus has inserted a black dog in the left foreground who appears to be licking himself.

The posting of Venus and Adonis seems appropriate to me at this particular historical moment in which same-sex marriage has been recently legalized in New York. I am not against marriage for non-heterosexuals. If anyone wants to get married they should have the right to do so.

What does trouble, however, is that the legalization of same-sex marriage while a civil rights achievement, is also an enactment of conformity for non-heterosexuals to a decidedly heterosexual principle rather than a transformation of that principle and the entire dominant fiction itself. Symmetry is not always the most desired or most radical result. As Françoise d’Eaubonne (1920-2005), a French feminist who introduced the term ecofeminism in 1974 states, “You say that our task is to integrate homosexuals into society, while I say it is to disintegrate society through homosexuality.”

And what would Mr. Cadmus say about marriage equality if he were still alive? Does his Adonis have only one tennis partner? Does he dream of marriage or is it just the same as the scene depicted, but with different players?

Queering the Image 8: Gilding the Acrobats by Paul Cadmus

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 18:54:00 +0000

*A Note to Readers- I must apologize dear readers for my dearth of posts so far in 2011. Unfortunately, real world events have been demanding much of my time and I have not been motivated to write about anything in particular. Hopefully, today is the beginning of more frequent posts. XOXO Kelly

Paul Cadmus, Gilding the Acrobats, 1935, tempera and oil on masonite, 36.75”x18.5”, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Painted in 1935, Paul Cadmus’ Gilding the Acrobats is on one level a self-reflexive metaphor for the act of painting itself; Cadmus figuratively touches (paints) the splendid male bodies that he has put on display for the viewer as those bodies paint one another within the bounds of the picture’s frame. In this way, the image is on another level an expression of the homoerotic desire of the painter and the potential spectator who might gain pleasure in looking at these bodies in a private, “behind the scenes, before the show” intimate scene. The narrative of gilding sublimates and displaces the sexual nature of the scene of men touching themselves (masturbating) and touching each other behind the curtain. The painting is a self-referential spectacle of looking, touching and desire.

And what of the (black) servant who is the visual link between the standing foreground performer and the one who sits behind him. He is the only one clothed in the scene and he performs his duty with great concentration and focus. Is he part of the sexual (sublimated) narrative and desire of the scene? Is he a stand-in for the painter and/or the viewer? Or is he ignored by the narrative and the discourse of painting because of his race, as the (black) maid in Manet’s Olympia has often been, merely seen as a racist cipher of unchecked, uncultured desire?

The Past Rears Its Sometimes Ugly Head

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 10:32:00 +0000

Caspar David Friedrich, The Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, 1818

One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to date more…but when you’re queer, older and more of a bear than a gazelle the same-sex dating pond can be a bit shallow. Okay, so I am being a bit dramatic. Thank you Miss Havisham.

The other night as I was trolling through OKCupid, I came upon a familiar face. R_____ and I had dated briefly (twice) some 10+ years ago (more of a gazelle then). Perversely, he dumped me both times. When I think about it more clearly now, his only appeal to me was probably physical and he possessed a certain sadness that always seems to appeal to me, much to my own detriment. For some reason, he got under my skin in the way sometimes people who don’t give a fuck about you do and the results were not pretty. And now thanks to the internet, I was able to remember that train wreck all over again.

In these moments of ugly memories, I often think of what William Burroughs wrote just before he died: “Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller. What there is . . . love.” I just hope I don’t have to wait till I am almost dead to realize it as he did.

This dating memory also suggests for me how the internet is an uncanny thing full of digital ghosts of the past, known and unknown, myriads of faces and bodes, clothed and naked, that are part of my past and potentially part of my future which hauntingly dance in my head. The internet is like a fixed/unfixed time machine which often prevents one from the impossibility of staying in the present. And sometimes it takes you back to an ugly, embarrassing moment in your life as you/I stare out at the limitless digital ocean of memory.

Silver Desire: A George V English Sterling Sugar Bucket on the Brink of War

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 15:33:00 +0000

Recently I found a gorgeous English sterling sugar bucket with a deep red purplish hand blown glass liner. The piece is hallmarked London 1914 and was made by Goldsmiths and Silversmiths Co. Ltd. a large retail jeweler and silversmith established in 1880 at 112 Regent Street in London. In 1898, the firm converted to a limited liability company and the name became Goldsmiths and Silversmiths Co. Ltd.

Hallmarks: Maker’s mark, lion passant to indicate sterling, leopard head to indicate London, date letter “t” to indicate 1914.

The sterling cage of the bucket standing on 4 delicate curved feet is comprised of several motifs. All have lovely incised decoration highlighting and enhancing their silhouette. The front of the sugar bowl features an empty shield cartouche which was intended fro the monogram of a potential owner, but here is still blank. On either side of the shield are large covered classical urns with handles. Swirling foliage attaches these 3 components. The back of the sugar bowl (opposite the cartouche) displays a bow with a quiver of arrows. On either side of this motif are again a pair of classical urns as in the front of the piece.

When I first acquired the sugar bowl, it was around Valentine’s Day and the color of the glass, the bow and arrows and the bowl’s function to deliver sweetness made me think of that holiday with its dominant red color and Cupid shooting arrows into those individuals looking for love.

Yet, as I looked at the piece the connotations of its denotations changed for me. This change of feeling was precipitated by its assay date of 1914 which is of course the year that The Great War (so-called before the more extreme horrors of World War II because no one could imagine a greater catastrophe) started and Europe was plunged into a bloodbath until 1918.

Now, the shield cartouche and the bow with its quiver of arrows became martial symbols of war, not love, the urns became funerary in nature commemorating the millions who died in the trenches and elsewhere and the deep red of the sugar bowl became their split blood. The blank, unmonogrammed space of the shield cartouche now seemed a fitting epitaph for those individuals who died in the war.

It is fascinating to me how a simple, gorgeous object can conjure up so many images beyond its function and aesthetic. It would be interesting to research English silver production during the war to see how the war influenced or did not influence style, form and ornamentation, of course taking into account what restrictions the war put on that very manufacture.

In my fantastical imagination, this sugar bowl is in a small way a response to the war and a vestige of the 19th century. 1914 was not only the start of The Great War, but also the true ending of the 19th century whose ideals, assumptions and desires were obliterated by the war, ushering in new artistic movements which rejected, transformed or redeployed the classical ideals and forms of the past in response to their own historical moment after the war.

This sugar bowl is perhaps a small monument to the war and its dead, but it is in another sense the final expression of the 19th century and a whole way of life ended by the events of 1914. I love this piece not only for its style, form and ornamentation, but also for its connotations of requiem for the dead of war and nostalgia for a dead century.

A note to readers…

I must apologize dear readers for the dearth of posts lately on The Great Within. New and continuing obligations in the real world have left me little time to ruminate here. Hopefully, more regular posting will be coming in the future. In the meantime, use the new search function to explore past essays.

Best, K.

The Great Within Receives A Stylish Blogger Award

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 21:57:00 +0000

I am quite flattered to have received a Stylish Blogger Award from Mr. Bluehaunt the author of the always fascinating and stylish blog The Haunted Lamp. Thank you Mr. Bluehaunt! It is great to know that my words and pictures are not just falling unnoticed into the void.

-As part of the award, I am to name 5 other bloggers who I consider stylish. Here they are in no particular order:

The Haunted Lamp- an eclectic and well-chosen collection of always intriguing objects and ephemera.

Babylon Baroque- a blog “devoted to that most maligned art, ornament”. It is a rich treasury of gorgeous images and thoughtful commentary.

Porcelains and Peacocks- always interesting posts on interior design, decorative and fine arts.

Chinoiserie Chic- gorgeous photographs of Chinoiserie inspired objects and interior design.

Outright Ingrate- stylish, acerbic and witty look at the joys and horrors of everyday life.

-Also as part of the award, I am to tell seven things about myself:

1. I wear many hats- purveyor of antiques, part-time Mary Poppins and floral designer.

2. Sometimes I feel like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations with my wedding cake rotting in the next room.

3. My greatest joy is my goddaughter N____.

4. I am a collector of 19th century American silver, English Edwardian silver, 19th century English Aesthetic pottery, Edwardian porcelain, pigs and vintage postcards.

5. When I was in my late 20’s and 30’s I used to be a nightlife denizen at such magical and queer places as SqueezeBox and Foxy.

6. For the last 18 years I have struggled with varying degrees of depression and anxiety, but luckily now I am feeling content.

7. Whenever I get a fountain soda and the plastic cover has those dimples "cola" "diet" "other" I always depress the "other" dimple and it makes me smile every time.

The Great Within Part III

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 11:31:00 +0000

The Forbidden City, The Madness of Weeds, circa 1920’s

The Great Within began in July 2009 and although it has been only a year and a half, it seems so much longer to me. And although January 2011 is not really an anniversary (1st anniversary- paper, 2nd anniversary- cotton) I felt it was time to (re)present the blog and reassert its philosophy and goals for new readers who may have joined after its inception.

First and foremost, The Great Within is a blog about images- images from art, photography, film, mass culture and even memory. My discussion of pictures from a variety of genres and mediums is informed by my studies and writings in art history. My efforts always had a theoretical cast and foundation and sought to understand how images represent sexuality and gender. And also how pictures function ideologically. The words of Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault, Judith Butler, Walter Benjamin, JK Huysmans, Kaja Silverman, Monique Wittig, Angela Carter, Luce Irigaray, Jean Baudrillard, Charles Pearce, Georges Bataille, Gayle Rubin, Linda Nochlin, Griselda Pollack, Leo Bersani all inform and produce my analysis of visual representation particularly the imaging/imagining of masculinity and homosexuality. But, it is the work of Roland Barthes in his critical and profound musings on photography in Camera Lucida, his discussion of mass culture in Mythologies and his deployment and manifestation of structuralism and authorship in S/Z that I return to continually on The Great Within.

In my very first post entitled The Great Within, I discussed Barthes’ incredible ideas about photography- the studium/punctum binary, photography as identical to its referent and the that-has-been noeme of the medium in relation to images of The Forbidden City in Beijing, China:

The title of my blog, "The Great Within", is the literal translation of the Chinese characters for The Forbidden City in Beijing, China. This blog, however, is not going to be about the actual FC- its meaning, its architecture, its art. Rather, I am using photographs of the FC as a device, as a beginning, to talk about my own desire, my own great within and most importantly how these images function for me, give me meaning rather than solely the other way around.

Yet, my choice of The City is not simply arbitrary. It obviously has significant meaning for me in its actuality. Although I have never been there, I have experienced The City through documentaries, films and photographs and have gained a rudimentary knowledge of it.

For me, The Forbidden City is both a real and imagined space that precipitates my desire for images of the FC and beyond to other images, other mediums, other contexts. The FC serves as a metaphor for the musings of my own mind (My Great Within) and provides a focus for daydreams about the actual and fantastical FC particularly an area of the city known as The Garden of Forgotten Favorites. The Garden was a place within the FC where the concubines of an emperor went after their lord and master died to live out their remaining days in luxury, indolence, boredom and perhaps intrigue.

I have never seen this area of the city in a photograph (nor have I ever travelled to Beijing, China), but it’s existence of which I am certain in reality and in my mind awakens my desire and I often dream of being a concubine languishing in The Garden of Forgotten Favorites haunted by memories of my dead liege.

Kangxi Emperor (1654-1722) of the Qing Dynasty. He ruled China from 1661-1722.

These images of the FC both the photographs and the pictures in my head take me to a place beyond language, beyond culture, beyond the studium to the pre-Oedipal realm of the punctum as Barthes would say. It is the search for pictures which precipitates and evokes this response within me that informs and generates the content of The Great Within.

Here are some posts that deploy and incorporate Barthes and his profound understanding of photography:

Death/Grief/Absence/Presence: Felix and Felix

Barthesian Notes on a Photograph: Naked Dress Up by Ben Bale

Notes on a Photograph

Notes on a Photograph: A German World War II Soldier

This desire also manifests itself in my collecting of antique American silver, sterling and plate, and English Aesthetic pottery and my need to connect to the past and understand the historical and social context of the pieces in my collection:

On Collecting

Silver Desire: An Aesthetic Sugar and Creamer by Rogers Smith and Company

The Twilight of Silver Utensil Madness

And here are some other posts which make me smile:

The Absent Body: Felix Gonzalez-Torres, AIDS, Homosexuality and Representation

The Nautilus as Model

Growing Up Queer

Many Years Ago 2:30am Sunday

All Male “Live” Nude Revue

Recently, I have acquired more images of The Forbidden City in my continual search for it both real and imagined, both in Beijing and also in my mind.

Enjoy…

Postcard of The Forbidden City, The Winter Palace, circa 1910-1920. The last Qing Emperor Pu Yi was expelled from this fantastical, magical place in 1924. He had been deposed in 1912 and languished in the city for 12 years.

Postcard of Tai-ho-men in The Forbidden City, circa 1920’s. Marked on the reverse Hartung’s Photo Shop Peking,

Postcard view of The Forbidden City, circa 1920’s.

The 21st Century Body, Mary Tyler Moore & Musical Desire: My New IPod Touch

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly T Keating) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 01:05:00 +0000

So, I have had my IPod Touch now for about 2 weeks and it has been a big joy and a big shock to a 19th century fella such as myself, like finding out the world is indeed not flat (although now the world is flat again metaphorically, technologically)…especially to someone who was still playing vinyl and tapes from the ’80s 2 weeks ago…no joke…and walking around listening to my IPod, it’s like playing the soundtrack of my life, like I’m in a sitcom, like I’m Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat up into the air…my step is livelier with pep and vigor as I walk to the beat of New Order or Kylie or PSB or Ms. Stevie Nicks or The Gossip or The Smiths…it makes the trip more pleasant and transforms me into a cyborg and I cannot help but think that all this wonderful technology is, indeed, a source of great joy, yet simultaneously it also precipitates the continual effacement of the body and what is supposedly bringing us together is really isolating us from one another… I walk the street in my own musical world disconnected from others, I surf the net in Starbucks feeling like Lt. Uhura on her Enterprise pad device, but I am not part of a community…I am unconnected from all the other coffee drinkers there…but I still am quite fond of my new technological device…

Related posts about technology and the body:

Notes on the Internet: Reply To This Post

Notes on a Photograph: Untitled by Andrew Bush